Quiet Poem by Procyon Mukherjee

Did we ever hear quietness rising
Like the approaching storm
Or the loudest drum set next to you
That the sticks have gone berserk with

But for quietness to rise
You must have the sound's fury to subside
Or the diminuendo to be set
That must trill to the last vestige of a note
Lingering in the air

But for the Andante to remain quiet
Not because the prelude was so imposing
Would mean an unpleasant trough
Like an endurance sleeping in the air
Letting almost anything to pass

Quietness fills anything, no voids can escape
Not even an absence of a note
Can abscond, the immeasurable depth
Of this one absence is so overwhelmingly sharp
slowly engulfing but filling out

Between losing the most searched note
Or the absence of it
Music rises just from this
Of being just singularly late or early to arrive
Quietness must rise